


Never That Much

by e_wills



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift of the Night Fury, Hiccstrid - Freeform, Post-Gift Of The Night Fury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 13:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_wills/pseuds/e_wills
Summary: A fluffy one-shot that takes place post-GOTNF, when Hiccup and Astrid are working through what, exactly, they are to one another.





	Never That Much

In hindsight, Astrid’s kiss had caught Hiccup off-guard. The festive air of Snoggletog was infectious, making one less rigid, and prone to spontaneity. The warmth of the holiday coursed through their veins, settling heavy and soothing on the mind. Things seemed more permissible, more forgivable. It was a time to feel, not think; to act, not wait. And after the brief misery of a dragon-less village, Astrid had been overcome. She had Stormfly back, and her people were thrilled to be reunited with their winged companions. To make matter worse, that night Hiccup walked among Vikings, dragons, and festival lights. He had been plenty happy, in no need of recognition or praise for what he had done. That set him apart from their peers. Supposedly that was just the kind of thing he was apt to do now; he found himself rather unremarkable. But Astrid noticed.

In many ways, she still saw the troublesome boy who disregarded rules and mores for his own pursuits; who seldom listened and often did the exact opposite of what he was told whenever he did. Small in stature, habitually sarcastic and flippant—Hiccup was all those things. The dragons hadn’t changed _him_ , but they had changed Berk around him, lifting of fog that allowed Astrid to see him clearly. And there were good things: bits of him that shone brightly, refracting the light of honesty and a genuineness that really became him.

“You just like him because he killed the Red Death,” Snotlout had accused.

“I’m sure him, being the Chief’s son, has nothing to do with it—right?” Ruffnut had teased, like Hiccup’s social standing suddenly mattered over all those years it hadn’t.

Astrid ignored them. She had little patience for envy. Instead, she continued to watch Hiccup when he wasn’t looking, and to seek him out wherever he ran off to for leisure.

She had found him in the Great Hall that Snoggletog Eve, warm, unassuming, and every bit as unconventionally appealing as she now knew him to be. And so, she had kissed him on the lips; she had only ever done it once before. That intoxicating holiday air, coupled with the dragons’ triumphant return, had been a little too much for one teenager to resist. Sensibility died somewhere between music and savory meat pies.

Hiccup had been pleasantly surprised and politely confused. Six months had passed since their last kiss. He didn’t say anything, and he never asked questions—but there was a lot left unspoken hanging between them. Astrid felt it whenever they innocently touched: an entire conversation separated them.

She mulled things over for a couple days, clearing her head with flights on her dragon. Hiccup was often tinkering in the forge or updating the Dragon Manual at meal times. He never protested to her company when she sought him out. Berk had changed so drastically, but between the two of them,  _he_  was finally being transparent. For the first time, he was comfortable. Astrid was still adjusting to the major paradigm shift.

Who, exactly, did this new Berk make her? She didn’t quite have the answer yet…

But the freezing rain started, the last of the festival decorations were taken down; and Astrid used the heat of the forge as another excuse to be near him. They fell into a comfortable silence—but she knew there was more to be said. One of them had to take the initiative.

“You like me, don’t you?” she asked, and the words rang out in the relative quiet of the smithy.

Hiccup nearly hammered his thumb when he missed the malleable iron. He turned, his mortification thinly veiled by pale neutrality. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you like me?” she amended.

Vacillating micro-expressions played across his face. He settled for, “Of course, I  _like_  you, Astrid! We’re friends and—!”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He sighed in resignation. Setting down his hammer, he drummed his fingers on the workbench to delay a few seconds more.

“I’d say my answer depends on whether…whatever  _this_  is, hinges upon it,” he said, gazing at his mismatched feet. “I don’t like you enough to ruin our friendship—I care about you too much to do that.”

Astrid was taken aback. Whatever answer she had imagined he’d give was nowhere near as unflinchingly candid.

“Hiccup…”

“So, if you’re asking whether I like you to the extent that it changes things between us…then no. I could never like you that much.”

He picked up his hammer and returned to his work. Astrid stood there with pursed lips, noting his tense shoulders and red ears; and the way he was determinedly avoiding her gaze. His answer has been as good and clear a confession as she could’ve hoped for; and now all they were and everything they had the potential to be was suspended, waiting to become realized, or a missed opportunity.

She took a deep breath, walked over to him and gently stilled his working hand. “Isn’t some change good?” she asked. “You, of all people, taught me that.”

He hesitantly met her unwavering gaze. “Change…for the better, sure.”

“Well then, I guess that settles it.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What…what did we just settle?”

“You and me.  _Us.”_

He just stared at her blankly.

She huffed and dropped her arms to her sides. “Gods. Do I really have to spell it out for you, Hiccup? It’s not like I’m running around, kissing Snotlout or Tuffnut!”

His perplexity faded into a small, sheepish grin as he idly fiddled with the hammer. He avoided her gaze again. “Maybe…I just need to hear  _you_  say it?”

When he glanced back up, he was resolute.

Astrid felt a fluttering in her chest and a hot, prickling sensation across her neck. She cleared her throat. “Well, I like you, Hiccup. So, I guess it’s perfectly alright if you like me _that_  much.”

He paused, grinned, then gently reached for her hand in the same manner she often casually touched his. “Okay,” he said. “Change  _is_  good.”

Astrid rolled her eyes but couldn’t think up an appropriate segue; there were no more lingering questions. Whatever tension has kept them mere inches apart had finally abated. And it was easy; no dragging feet, no denial. They were as simple and straightforward as their very matter-of-fact, mutual attraction.

So, she kissed him again, and what might have been just another quick peck was more substantive with Hiccup kissing back.

**Author's Note:**

> I write for free. If you like what I do, please leave kudos. Comments are even better! I'm also on Tumblr: e--wills.


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